First off this ain’t no “woe is me” tale of me being cold and hungry/
I grew up comfortably/ as a child of the 70’s/
Knick’s jacket on my back/ I think I was 4/
My earliest memory/
Of Hip-Hop is when local DJ’s were asking “Who was in the place to be?”
me…/
And the place to be/ for me/ and my family/
was mad narrowly/ and apparently/ systematically designed for blacks to live tragically/
A bum on the corner’s yelling “Welcome to the ghettoooooooooooo!/
Far Rockaway Queens where young boys flash metaaaaaaaaaaal/
My folks would look calm but their hearts were unsettleeeeeeeeeed/
And why wouldn’t they be/
Ronald Reagan’s on the T.V./
Giving orders to the P.D./
To lock-up all niggaz they see/
You will have to excuse me/
That right there didn’t happen till the 80’s/
Right along with crack babies/
Drug dealers in Mercedes/ and other shit to make you crazy/
I grew up comfortably/ as a child of the 70’s/
Knick’s jacket on my back/ I think I was 4/
My earliest memory/
Of Hip-Hop is when local DJ’s were asking “Who was in the place to be?”
me…/
And the place to be/ for me/ and my family/
was mad narrowly/ and apparently/ systematically designed for blacks to live tragically/
A bum on the corner’s yelling “Welcome to the ghettoooooooooooo!/
Far Rockaway Queens where young boys flash metaaaaaaaaaaal/
My folks would look calm but their hearts were unsettleeeeeeeeeed/
And why wouldn’t they be/
Ronald Reagan’s on the T.V./
Giving orders to the P.D./
To lock-up all niggaz they see/
You will have to excuse me/
That right there didn’t happen till the 80’s/
Right along with crack babies/
Drug dealers in Mercedes/ and other shit to make you crazy/
*Sometimes when I’m inspired to write/
I want to give a window into my life/
But there’s other times where I feel like Naaaaaaaaaaaaahhh… y’all ain’t really ready/
Other times I want to grab the mic/
And let you know where I learned how to fight/
And let y’all know why I live life light/
Where I come from is so mufuckin HEAVY/*
Gamblers/ Scramblers/ Pimps/ Pushers/ and Dope Fiends/
Hustle and Busselers/ addicted to vending machines/
Stick-Up Kids/ Cats home from jail bids/
Street poets telling it just how it is/
Fake Messiahs/ High niggaz that look tired/
Hard workers that got fired/ Because of bold face liars/
We moved to Hollis like the projects were on fire/
Homeless man was yelling “Welcome back to the ghettooooooooooo/
Jamaica Ave. Where Crack is cooked inside Kettleeeeeeeeeeees/
Made by Pyrex and they also pack metaaaaaaaaaaaaal/
And why wouldn’t they pack/
There’s so many people dying/
There’s so many Mothers crying/
There’s so many people trying/
Moved to South-side Queens in the 90’s/
Guess what/ it was just as grimey/
My past doesn’t haunt me/ it reminds me/
That surviving is a blessing/ even though I am confessing/ That I’ve had the hardest lessons/
*Sometimes when I’m inspired to write/
I want to give a window into my life/
But there’s other times where I feel like Naaaaaaaaaaaaahhh.. y’all ain’t really ready/
Other times I want to grab the mic/
And let you know where I learned how to fight/
And let y’all know why I live life light/
Where I come from is so mufuckin HEAVY/*
GB
